


Here's Looking At You

by eight_0f_hearts



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eight_0f_hearts/pseuds/eight_0f_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Killian and Emma see each other for the first time on the train and there's a moment of perfect chemistry between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's Looking At You

**Author's Note:**

> Sydney CityRail AU? Based on the strange, bogan newspaper that everyone reads on the train.

Emma was having an absolute _bastard_ of a day.

Back at work for just one week and she'd already broken her New Year's resolution to not let herself get stressed out (in hindsight, a most likely impossible feat, but still disheartening). And as if getting reamed out by her boss, dropping her lunch, and losing a twenty dollar note weren't bad enough, she'd had so much photocopying to do that she'd very nearly missed her train, darting in just before the doors shut. Now she was wedged between the grimy window and an overweight businessman, trying to will away the headache she could feel forming.

And then her mobile rang, loudly enough to make her jump. She scrambled in her handbag for it, and it was only when all the surrounding commuters began to shoot her filthy looks that she realised, oh great, she'd somehow ended up in the silent carriage.

Because God apparently hated her, she couldn't find her phone for a few moments. When she did, she dropped it, and when she bent over to pick it up her bag tipped off the seat next to her and a shower of coins and paperclips spilled out across the floor.

By the time she had gathered herself, she'd missed the call (Mary Margaret, so probably not urgent), 99 percent of the carriage was glaring at her, and the man beside her seemed to have expanded to take up half of her part of the seat.

She was not amused.

She was so, _so_ not amused, but it seemed a man on the other side of the train car was, because when her eyes fell on him by chance she found him staring at her with one fist pressed against his mouth trying very, very hard not to laugh.

Emma stared at him, confused and then vaguely offended. He was sitting on the far side of the carriage, on a seat against the wall that meant he was facing everybody else, and he was not doing a very good job of hiding his mirth. When he realised she'd seen him, he gave her a long, slow smirk that made it perfectly clear that he had witnessed her series of unfortunate events and found them very funny.

She glared.

She was having a bad,  _bad_ day and some idiot on the train laughing it up really was not helping-

-even if said idiot, in retrospect, happened to be very attractive. Objectively speaking, of course, because it was hard to go wrong with dark hair and blue eyes and a slightly dishevelled, stubbley look. He wasn't a businessman, either, or at least he wasn't dressed like one – leather jacket and... was that eyeliner?

' _Your face_ ,' he mouthed at her.

It was immature. It was immature, but Emma was tired and her feet hurt and she was pretty sure she'd lost a few dollars when her bag fell over, so she flipped him the bird in response.

Except she hadn't noticed the woman with the child sitting next to him, who gasped and covered her kid's eyes before giving Emma a look that could curdle milk.

The man let out an audible snort. He was practically doubled over in amusement by now, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

A moment later he looked up, and caught her eye, and then cracked up even more, and Emma gave up completely and broke down into barely-suppressed giggles as well. It was ridiculous, when she thought about it; she had disturbed the commuters and scandalised a mother and there was a hot guy in leather using her as his train-trip entertainment. It was laugh or cry at this point.

The train rattled to a halt and there was a flurry of activity as people got on and off. When it passed, Emma glanced back at the man to find that he had sobered up and was now watching her with an intent, almost measuring gaze.

Whoever described laughter as the best form of medicine had been spot-on; the stress had faded a little, replaced by amusement, and Emma was feeling friendly enough to give him a small smile.

He smiled back – flirtatiously, and something flickered in Emma's stomach.

_What_ .

No. No, no, she was absolutely not looking for that right now. She had her hands full with work, and Henry, and whenever a man tried to hit on her she would follow the usual routine of cold stare followed by turned back followed by knee to the groin if he was insistent about it-

It wasn't working.

It wasn't working, she couldn't make herself do it. She just sat there, frozen, staring at him while he stared back and  _Christ almighty were those butterflies in her stomach_ .

And then they pulled up at another station and he rose, snatching up his backpack. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked up the carriage steps, holding Emma's gaze and smiling again before he left the train.

Emma sank back in her seat, feeling a bit winded and confused as hell.

_What is wrong with you?_ She slapped her forehead a few times.

It wasn't like she never found guys attractive. Just not enough for her to ever want to get involved with them – there had been Neal, and now she had Henry...

_He made you laugh_ .  _He made you laugh, that's it, that's why you liked him. That's all._

And it wasn't like she could do anything about it now. He had left.

She didn't know his name – didn't know the first thing about him. And how often did you ever seen the same person twice on the city train line? Never, that was how often.

It wasn't worth thinking about.

But for some unfathomable reason, she couldn't help feeling oddly disappointed as she stared at the empty place where he had been sitting and the journey continued in slow silence.

 

* * *

 

 

By the following day Emma had all but forgotten about the stranger. It wasn't until she walked down the stairs into the train station that it all came flooding back.

_Ugh. Stop acting like a teenager_ , she chided herself as that lingering sense of disappointment returned. She shot a discreet glance around the station – seeing as it was about the same time as she'd caught the train yesterday – but there was no sign of him.

_Stupid. Stupid!_

Emma snatched up a copy of the free commuter's newspaper, and marched down to the platform. Her train was just arriving, and she hurried on, managing to get a better seat this time as she settled down to read.

She trawled through several pages of celebrity gossip and movie reviews before flicking to the talk page. The 'overheard' section always amused her.

It was when her eyes fell to the bottom of the page that she saw the message and froze.

 

 

For a moment she sat staring, almost uncomprehending.

_Is that...?_

Of course it was him. It had to be.

Suddenly she felt almost embarrassed, ducking her head as she felt a warm flush spread across her face.

He had _Here's-Looking-At-You_ 'd her. He'd actually gone home and written in to the newspaper on the chance that she would see it the next day.

_God. I should be finding this_ ...  _I don't know. Creepy._

Except she didn't. And she'd read that section of the newspaper a hundred times before, seen people calling each other out either to arrange dates or send an anonymous compliment – but she'd never quite understood what happened next; if they ever actually met up. If it ever worked out.

_What do I do?_

'Coffee sometime', he'd said.

_Walk away from this. Walk away..._

After Neal she'd dated around, here and there, but no one had ever clicked with her, and she'd stopped once Henry got older. Why should this one be any different?

And she really knew nothing about the man, _nothing at all-_

But she was curious.

Her gut feelings had never led her astray before – and it was stupid, it really was, but somehow she felt like if she passed up the opportunity to meet with him now, it would never come by again.

Really, could it hurt?

Before she could second-guess her decision, she pulled out her phone, typed in the newspaper's contact details printed at the top of the talk section, and composed a message. 6:30, Thursday evening at Granny's Diner, a small cafe near the train station. With luck it would end up in tomorrow's paper.

There was no going back once she'd hit send, and for a moment her finger hovered over the screen before she resolutely tapped down.

She was intrigued, despite herself.

And it was silly, schoolgirlishly silly, but a lingering, pleasant flutter of excitement stayed with her for the entire rest of the train ride.

 

 


End file.
